Chapter 1 : Nothing special
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ďMuggles think up the silliest stories, donít you think Lils? I mean, what would a fairy want with a tooth in the first place?Ē
He didnít exactly make me feel better, but that was a pretty impressive try for James, especially since he was at his ďIím ten and donít need my little sister following me around everywhereĒ stage.
My parents are very pro-Muggle, so we live in the Muggle heavy part of Godricís Hollow, and my first real friend who wasnít a cousin (Roxanne will always be my best friend) was a girl in my class named Heather.
Heather was a Muggle, like the rest of my classmates, and her mother was a professional dancer.
This, as you may understand, really confused me. Isnít everyone a dancer? We all go to balls and dance at parties.
Apparently, in the Muggle world, dancing is a big deal. Like, people pay money to go see people who trained for years at dancing.
Heatherís mum was a very popular dancer among the Muggles. At one point during the year, I went with Heather to one of her motherís shows, and it was beautiful. It was then, watching the performers float across the stage, that I decided I wanted to be a dancer.
My mother was hesitant a first. Despite her dad being nearly obsessed with Muggles, she was still a Pureblood, and professional dancing wasnít something she was all that familiar with. After much persuasion and some cleverly aimed Puppy Dog Eyes (my dad never could resist) I was signed up and dancing barely two weeks later.
I was at Miss Lauraís studio five days a week, devoting hours on end to ballet, contemporary, and modern dance.
I had finally found something I was really good at. James was a Quidditch genius, and Albus was already adept at wandless magic, much to my motherís chagrin. They were brilliant and encouraged to embrace their talents. But I was terrified of heights and my accidental magic was exactly that, accidental.
But dancingÖdancing I could do. Dancing I was good at.
I was the favorite of my instructors and all my classmates were jealous when I got the solos and leads in the yearly productions my school put on. I was good at something that people years older than me couldnít do. I was special.
Unfortunately, I was only special to the Muggles. In the Wizarding world, when I mentioned my dance classes, people looked at me like I had some sort of weird disease and they didnít know what to say to make the situation better.
When they would gush to my parents about how amazing James was in the air, or how Albus was going to be a great wizard, theyíd always glance awkwardly at me and mutter something about how I had potential, or that Iíd always have my looks.
One night a few months before my first year at Hogwarts, after an especially rough dinner with a couple of people mum knew from the Daily Prophet, I had locked myself in my room and was sobbing into my pillow, intent on never dancing again, intent on forcing myself to learn to fly or gain better control over my magic.
My dad walks in. Itís funny how ordinary he is to me, when to the world heís like a God, like a hero from a history book. Iíll never get used to the stares he grabs when weíre out in public, even all these years later, people gaping at the scar on his forehead, as though expecting it to be fake, for him to disappear.
My face was buried deep in my pillow, but I knew it was him, if only because James and Al canít walk into a room without stomping their feet and slamming some doors, and mum would have been talking before she was in earshot.
He sat down on the bed next to me and whispered so quietly I nearly didnít hear him,
ďYouíre beautiful when you dance.Ē
That was exactly what I needed to hear. Who cares what everyone else thinks. I love dancing, and my parents supported me. What else should matter?
That was over six years ago.
Turns out a lot of things matter. I dance in secret at Hogwarts, using any place I can find sneaking around the castle every night. Hardly anyone outside my immediate family knows that I dance. Roxanne is my only cousin who knows, and only because sheís my best friend in the whole world.
No one really understands why Iím so withdrawn, why Iím so quiet.
Iím so different from my family; my hair is a weird mix of black and red, no more one shade than the other. My eyes are blue, a trait I supposedly got from my Uncles, though neither my parents nor my brothers have blue eyes. At first glance I donít look much like a Potter.
Iím pretty much the opposites of my brothers, who bask in the attention that comes with being on the Quidditch team, even the paparazzi feeling that comes with being the kids of Harry Potter.
I donít mind though. Iím happy, at least for now.
Things are about to get a little more complicated.
My name is Lily Luna Potter.
Welcome to my life. Try not to break anything.
My first multi-chaptered Harry Potter fic! Itís my baby, so be nice! I have it all planned out and a few chapters typed up already, so uploading should be fairly quick (given the speed of the queue of course) For the record, I am not a dancer (unless you count thrusting to a beat in cheerleading routines, dancing) so if I get something wrong I apologize now. Please leave a review, Iíd love to know what you thought!
Check out my Rose/Scorpius one-shot Runaway
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